Sparkles Galore
by I am Pseudonymous
Summary: What would happen if an FMA fan were to be reborn as Major Armstrong's sparkles? Warning: I've been told this story is quite disturbing.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

R&R please. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts.

**0o0o0**

When I died it was sudden. I still don't know exactly what happened. One moment I'm laughing with my friends, the next there's a sharp pain in my head before everything just fades away. All I could do was hope they're okay while floating in this nothingness.

At first it was peaceful. I had time to think and come to terms with all I had lost. Because even though I don't know what happened, I knew I had died. Strangely, that wasn't very upsetting.

But that peaceful feeling didn't last for long. I couldn't see, hear, or feel _anything. _There was no way for me to say with any real certainty whether I was somewhere dark, or light, silent, or deafening, empty, or crowded. I was nothing more than a stream of thoughts. What could have been a matter of minutes would feel like an eternity in that nothingness, and that? That is truly hell.

After all, there's a reason isolation is used as a form of torture in some places. Add in sensory deprivation and an inability to sleep, and any human would be driven mad. Who knows, maybe I was too, inhuman as I am now.

Occasionally I wonder if I ever was human. If my memories of that life were real.

I try to avoid those thoughts. They're stupid, and can go suck a duck for all I care.

Instead I think about all the things that made me happy in life. Like my friends, family, interesting stories: books and tv, music, cute things, anything, and everything really. More often than not though, that would just make me sad. I missed just being able to do things so much.

What did I ever do to deserve this? I had thought I was at least a halfway decent person, but maybe it's not about that. What if this is just what happens to everyone when they die?

I would never wish this on anyone else, and yet a small part of me doesn't want to be the only one to suffer like this. I want to cry.

When my world suddenly becomes an explosion of light, colors, and sounds, it's equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

Joy wins out as I desperately try to make sense of everything. However before I can, it's all viciously ripped away from me. The nothingness returns and I _**scream. **_It could never be put into words the emotional agony I felt then. I have no form, and yet it felt like I was screaming my lungs out, a small relief from the pain. So I screamed and raged for what could have been hours, or even days, until I just couldn't bring myself to anymore. Afterwards I felt so hollow, numb.

All this time I had clung to my emotions as the only sensation I had left, but why should I, when it feels like that?

I lock them away where I do my best to ignore the attempts made to claw their way to freedom. I don't ever want to feel like that again.

My world erupts in light again and I can't stop the way hope pounces on that shit with a vengeance, even knowing it will cause nothing but pain.

Then I realized I was seeing from multiple perspectives at once, all staring at the back of an honestly disturbingly muscled little boy.

I listen, slightly dazed, as he poses while praising the talents of the illustrious Armstrong line to a group of other kids.

No way.

There is absolutely no way this is what I think it is!

I'm almost grateful to be sent back to the nothingness a few moments later because by that point I am having a major freakout, although it's not long before I wish I could see that place again. Now that hope's latched on, it has no intention of letting go.

And I do see it again. And again.

Eventually I am forced to acknowledge the truth.

I. Am the fucking **Sparkles and Roses **that follow Alex Louis Armstrong around like a lost puppy.

And you know what else?

I'm proud of it. There's never a dull moment with him. I am so grateful to him and his personality that summons me so frequently. I can't imagine what it would be like as Mustangs sparkles for instance. Well, actually I can, and it's horrible. I'd almost never get these little bits of freedom.

So even though I can't communicate with anyone, (I doubt he even knows I exist) I am eternally grateful to him.

Therefore I must express that gratitude in the only way I can think of. By being the most badass sparkles EVER!

His father's sparkles will never compare to me!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** This is for the lovely guest reviewer who wanted more and called my writing beautiful. Thank you for your kind words.

PS: Nolifesoiread brought up a good point, I don't find this story all that disturbing. It is much darker than originally planned though. My sister just isn't comfortable with the fact that I have subjected sentient sparkles to _that_. She also finds Major Armstrong disturbing and I had been contemplating his character and especially the sparkles out loud to her because I found her reactions amusing. I don't remember what she did when I decided that the sparkles were their own separate entity from him, but I ran off giggling like a mad man declaring that I would write it.

I came back with the first chap, and she was horrified. So I thought I might as well put the warning in just in case.

0o0o0

In the years to come I relish every little experience Alex shares with me. I once stayed for an entire week, only getting sent back to the nothingness when he slept. It got to the point that he was taken to the doctor because it was scaring the maids. The fact I was experimenting with how much control I have over myself probably didn't help.

I think secretly we actually had to go because Mr. Armstrong was jealous of my awesomeness and was hoping the doctor would tell him how to do it too. Well too bad for him, because after a multitude of tests and a couple different doctors, there were no real answers. All they could say is, Alex is just a very expressive person.

Sometimes I feel a little bad seeing how others shun him, partially because of me, but he never let it get to him. He puts on a big grin, I amp up the sparkles, and we show them just how awesome we are. He's never tried to change himself just to be liked by others, and I admire that.

Although I'm not sure he realizes why he has issues making friends.

But that's not the point. The point is that he's always his adorably enthusiastic self. And there will be people who see what I do and want to be his friend.

Damn. I'm starting to feel like some sort of proud parent. Oh well. Now that I've started that analogy I'm gonna go cry about how they grow up too fast.

It feels like just yesterday I saw him for the first time, and already he's enlisting in the military. *sniffle* They're taking my little boy away from me.

OK, I'm done with that. It's weird.

0o0o0

Alex is in some boring meeting and I'm doing my best to flicker through a nauseating array of colors when someone finally snaps. And then the floodgates are open with complaints. I just increase the speed and some beansprout by the door looks like he's gonna hurl.

Of course Alex had no clue what I was doing. Once he realizes what they're problem is though he gives an apologetic laugh saying he has no control of me. Ain't that the truth.

A while back he actually realized I was sentient. Normally He can't see me since I can only appear behind and beside him. However I had finally gotten the courage to attempt communicating so whenever he was in front of a mirror I would painstakingly form myself into one word. 'Hi'

At first he was shocked and I worried he would tell someone. He didn't though, and we started having short, stilted conversations. They never lasted long though because of how difficult forming words is. Color changes are much easier.

I take pity on the beansprout who is now holding a hand over his mouth and decide hot pink is the best color to be right now.

There's a collective sigh of relief before the meeting continues. Now that my only form of entertainment is gone I start paying attention. It takes a moment to figure out what's being discussed, but when I do, despair washes through me.

I knew this day would come. I just wish it could be a little farther out. Alex is heading for Ishval.

I watched both animes and my heart hurt just getting a glimpse of the pain he went through. Now it's real and I'm much closer and yet so far. I won't be able to give any support or comfort because I'll be stuck in the nothingness for most of it. He's what summons me, and he won't want me to be there. I don't know what to do.

He'll be right in the middle of it. Forced to witness and commit horrendous things.

So when I hear where he's going, the sparkles turn black, and the roses wilt. I soak in the other's grim faces, ignoring beansprout's horror.

If I'm to appear at any point before the end of this war, it will be black as death or red as blood and the eyes of those being slaughtered.

I'm sorry Alex. I hope you can remain strong and come out of this with your kind heart intact.

**AN:** Don't ask where the beansprout thing came from. I have no idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I had an absolutely lovely chat with ShadowHeart175 and this is the result. Enjoy!

0o0o0

In the time to come I only ever appear briefly. Usually when he's trying to hype himself up, encourage others, or during those few happy moments at meals. My new color scheme unnerved a few, but no one said anything.

Then after a period of silence that felt like it would never end, I appear in a dim room with Alex sitting in front of a mirror. His face is littered in bruises and judging by how weak I am he's brought me here through will and not the usual emotions.

I form a rose instead of wasting energy on words.

"I left Ishval."

Oh… He clearly wants to say more but remains silent. I hesitantly flash pink.

A single tear falls down his face and I panic, having only ever seen him cry out of joy or because he was deeply moved by someone.

This. This was neither of those.

Rage courses through me and I suddenly have the energy to say something.

He looked shattered. Like he could never be happy again.

'_Who the fuck hurt you!_'

I didn't even realize I was making the words drip in blood. Because this is what I was afraid of. That this fucked up world would break him.

"I don't think Olivier can ever forgive me. She believes me to be a deserter. Maybe she's right."

More tears fall.

'_**NO. **__You are a good man and I am __**proud**_ _of you. If she can't understand well then she doesn't deserve you.'_

He gives me a weak smile and watery chuckle, "Thank you, but you do not understand the things I've done. To leave the war is an embarrassment to the family. She has every right to hate me."

'_Don't you dare start that Alex Louis Armstrong. There will be no pity parties in this house. Fuck!_

_The war was wrong. You were right to leave. Please. Please just love yourself. Don't let what happened consume you._'

I see the letters start to wobble before I feel them shatter, painfully, into a rain of sparkles. Seeing him like this hurts so much more.

He takes a deep breath and nods, "You're right. I should be working to reclaim my honor, not moping about."

And that was the start of Alex's slow recovery from the war.

There would still be rough patches where his grin was fake, or he just wouldn't summon me for long periods of time. But he does slowly learn to love himself again.

His heart chipped, yet beautiful and strong all the same.


End file.
